Feverish
by Villemoo
Summary: She wants to play. He is in her way. Not really Catwoman from TDKR.


**Fast writing excercise.**

 **Character study more than anything.**

* * *

Feverish.

She felt feverish, gradually blooming tension and heat at the pit of her stomach, at least until the heist. Then, during and shortly after, it was calmness of a fortress monastery, a sea at peace, top of the mountain during windless second.

She found a stash with trinkets that made her feverish. The itch she had to scratch. There was a name, a history and a note, but she cared only about the loot. Thrill of finding the nook it was hidden at, of working through the lock, booby traps and a decoy.

Worth it.

She roamed narrow alleyways of Gotham impatient and fighting, calming only when the rush was at its peak.

First time she punched a guy square in the face she felt surge of pleasure so intense she practically purred while landing a heavy kick fracturing his ribs. Adrenaline sharpened her senses and she played, dodging and evading, kicking, scratching and punching.

Next day was the most tranquil she ever felt.

But the fever build, slowly yet steadily, until she had to go again. The chase, heist, loot and reward of a fight were calling, singing in her muscles twitching impatiently and pads of fingers drumming over walls, handrails, bars…

She used the money productively. Got laser procedure for her eyes. Still wore glasses at work, but now she didn't have to. There were always a decoy more than a tool anyway.

She got gym membership and a personal trainer. An ex marine, drilling hero to the brink of exhaustion. He was astonished how much she could take, when she put her mind into it. But she was a lazy kitten most of days, playing in short bursts, losing interests after a round or two of repetitions. He stretched her a lot, using the overwhelming urge she had to just lay around doing nothing. She liked him using her. They played around the border of appropriateness, and she liked that he never dared to go too far. She showed him her claws, and he respected her boundaries. It was nice to be in control.

Not as nice as kicking and punching.

Targets she chose were always safe. Nothing that would make police go too hard looking for the culprit. Nothing that would make the mob want to investigate too vigorously.

Until that one time she took one thing too much.

But first things first.

She was feverish. Hot and wound up to the bursting point. Good thing she was suited up and ready to go.

Her mark was a delicious hunk of muscle surrounded by an eclectic entourage of bodyguards. Not that he needed any.

Everyone in town knew his name, no one suspected what he was back for.

She had an inkling, thanks to that cursed piece she couldn't leave behind in a safe.

A girl's gotta be thourogh and tidy, that's what her momma number two used to say.

Her whisky ordered neat disappeared in a blink, remnants chased swiftly off her lips with tip of pink tongue.

He was looking.

She grinned and stretched, and sat on the bar.

"Hey, get your ass out of here lady!"

Feverish and playful. That's how she felt.

Turning on her hips she used flamboyant kick to inch her heavy boot on bartenders chest. Very slowly, very steady pressure lurking lower and lower distracted him just the right amount to let her mouth over booming music 'But I wanted to play.'

She was a nice diversion for her mark to move somewhere more private, and he immediately took advantage of her antics to do just so. The crowd 'oohed' and 'aahed' while she somersaulted graciously towards end of the bar. Quick shimmy of her hips, some well placed pats and she was gone. In a dark corridor, surrounded with mercenaries.

"Hello there stranger," she greeted with her silkiest brand of invitation.

"You have something of mine."

She smiled at the man, strolling slowly towards his imposing figure. Arms outstretched, she grazed her fingers on his men's chests, like a guard playing with inmates, teasing tip of a baton over the bars.

"I possess great many things."

"Indeed?"

She reached him and he let her transfer one palm to his ribcage. On top of the vest, but he covered her hand with his.

Warm.

She purred, and snuggled closer.

"What would you like me to part with, for you?"

"Great many things," he replied. His other hand cradled her closer, splaying over her lower back.

She tested his intentions tilting her weight back, and sure enough his muscles contracted and held her tighter.

"Tsk, tsk,"Her head hung so low, she was pressing her forehead to his clavicle. He smelled nice. Spicy and fresh. But she shook her head at him, disappointed. "you never had a cat before, did you honey?"

Her free hand creeped up to his shoulder, strong and steady, and she used his stability to pull herself up. One leg circled his hips, and the movement made his hands shift too, to hold her at the top of her thighs.

She used other leg to push off the wall, and contorted fluidly out, down, behind closest mercenary. No longer was she feverish.

The man charged her way. But his hands connected only with his goons, and they couldn't pinpoint her either, her retreat secured with the knowledge of the best place to squeeze into, somewhere where none of them could fit to go after her.

"Let her go," she heard behind her, "We'll have to make a house call. "

She scoffed. As if. He'd have to know who she was first.

oOo

Day at the office was mundane and exhausting. She had a panic attack over ordering menu for an at-office-meeting, and some supplies were missing from weekly order, and there was so much mail she didn't know who it should be directed to…

The fact that she spent half of her time daydreaming about wall of muscle she so very briefly hugged between her legs didn't help her concentration one bit. He radiated heat and strength, and she wanted nothing more than climb him and curl in his lap, and let him pet her absentmindedly.

The bait to go and see who was the thief was an obvious trap, and she saw it from a mile. But she was curious, and bored, and frankly - there weren't many people interested in old books as much as he seemed to be.

She knew the value of the stuff she took the moment she walked into that room. Happy coincidence. There was a safe but had only cash inside and guns, nothing to really entice her. She worked to open it with gusto and dedication, and the results were less than satisfying. So she wanted to leave a mark, to show her dissatisfaction.

And then she spotted the book, just sitting there between other books, unassuming and humble.

Exterior never matched the contents, it seemed.

Did it apply to the delicious hunk too? Maybe, since he threw out enough info that he was interested in finding the book and acquiring it back.

Now he knew she had it.

What he didn't realize was, he had something she wanted her paws on too.

oOo

A week later, too fast, way too fast, she was grinding her way back through a vent towards exit from supple jewelry storage. Unlit and simple backroom, filled with safe boxes and alarms. She set her eyes on one piece kept there. If she was sufficiently careful, no one would discover it was missing for weeks to come.

Plopping back into an alley she moaned a bit, the air rushing out her mouth along with frustrated sigh. Feverish still.

Raspy inhale echoed off damp brick walls and she grinned.

Calmness overcame her again in its unforgiving steely embrace. She missed it.

"Hello stranger," she greeted again, turning back and letting his henchmen emerge from the shadows and grab her hands.

He stalked close, every step thudding on the pavement. Her bike was at the entryway.

He kept his distance this time, but reached out to stroke her shoulder, scraping off dust and cobwebs gathered there.

"The book," he said simply.

"Search me?" she teased.

He didn't look amused. Nevertheless, strong fingers pulled at her zipper, yanking it roughly.

Just what she needed.

The slack meant material circling to her arms loosened too. Twisting out of their hold was easy, especially since she moved forward instead of back. Unanticipated surge had her beau prepared instantly for retaliation, and she used that to propel herself up and to the side, effectively running around the men on the wall.

The bike stayed in an alley. Pity, but she could get another one.

oOo

Laying low for a month was exhausting. She started slipping at work. A wink to her boss. Charming her way through a gaggle of clients before the meeting, making them lap up whatever was dished out with a blissful grins on their faces. Disposing of every shred of stray mail she had on hand.

She still daydreamed about that man. Looked for signs of his activities in the papers, but nothing was apparent even at third glance.

After all this, he did finally pay her a visit.

One minute she rinsed soapy suds from her hair, and then when she opened her eyes there was a massive black contour behind steamed glass.

She couldn't tell herself if she was iron-hot feverish or frozen with shock.

But she grinned anyway.

* * *

 **R &R!**


End file.
